


Confession

by Beccafiend



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Confessional, M/M, terrible Catholocisim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 17:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16163804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beccafiend/pseuds/Beccafiend
Summary: "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned."





	Confession

**Author's Note:**

> Filling a prompt for Saiyuki Often Overlooked October/late AU August that is just. Uh. Porn. It's porn. I apologize it's probably very obvious I am super atheist, because my ass hasn't been to a Catholic service since I was 7 and I was just there for the donuts, so. Oops.
> 
> Original prompt: "Priest Hazel has to listen to Ukoku in confessional. Ukoku confessing all the lewd things he's done, and things he's wanted to do to certain blue eyed priest he's seen around the church"
> 
> Also check out Adagiospace's art fill for this prompt on the Often-Overlooked-October tumblr because it is wonderful.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

 

Even with the screen separating them and blocking his view, Hazel immediately recognizes the voice coming from the other side of the confessional booth. The newest member of the church, Ukoku, has been a special project of his since day one. The other clergy don’t believe him redeemable, they say he is a fraud, but Hazel wants to see the best in him. Leaning forward, he pushes down the thrill of excitement that Ukoku has finally ended up here, in his booth for the first time.

 

“The Lord is listening, as am I. What is troubling you, my child?”

 

“I have never confessed, oh Father, but I am afraid I have committed several mortal sins.”

 

Hazel waits, holding his breath as Ukoku seems to collect himself, his tone almost musical as he continues.

 

“I have laid with man and woman alike, oh Lord, in ways I know you would find unsavory. My vice is Lust, and I have been in the Devil’s grasp for so long. So many have I taken, and it has never been enough. The emptiness in my heart has never been filled, no matter how much the rest of me is.  Please, Father, may you forgive me of such sins?”

 

Hazel releases his breath, holding a hand to his chest. The rumors have been true, it seems, and even worse than he thought. But he thinks he hears remorse in Ukoku’s tone that gives him hope, ignoring the voices in his head whispering that it’s all an act.

 

“The Lord is merciful, and He forgives all who accept him into their hearts. Is there anything else troubling you?”

 

“Hmm… ahh, yes. I’ve been having the most sinful thoughts of late about someone I’ve been seeing around the church. The blue-eyed angel, bishop Hazel Grouse.”

 

It’s all he can do to keep from inhaling sharply, giving himself away when he hears his name rolling off the man’s tongue in a way that is definitely intentional. He has to take a moment to collect himself before he can respond. “Go on. The Lord is listening.”

 

“Ah, He is? Good. Perhaps He can rid me of these thoughts.” Hazel can hear the smirk in the man’s voice without seeing it, the grate between them a poor shield for his uniquely lilting voice. “You see, it started with his face. A beautiful face, truly fitting of an angel. Pure, you know. Just asking to be sullied by sin. Such pure things usually are.”

 

“His skin and hair are such a wonderful milky white color, I can’t help but imagine something else thick and white would go well sprayed all over it. To have him covered in my essence, his hair caking as it dries.” There’s an almost wistful tone to his voice as he sighs, as if recalling a fond memory.

 

Hazel shifts, the air in the confessional booth suddenly stuffier than he remembered it being. The man’s tone is unapologetic, smooth and sultry as the sin he’s referencing.

 

“I could live with that, you know. As you know, we are all sinners. And relearning old habits can be so hard without the lord’s help.” His tone of voice sounds almost insincere, but Hazel barely notices. “But then I saw him praying, the other day, and I haven’t been able to get the image out of my head since.”

 

“He looks beautiful on his knees when he serves you, Father. I can’t help but think that can be put to such good use elsewhere. I think he’d look wonderful knelt on the floor in front of me. That beautiful face covered in sweat, and other things. I know that tongue of his is so talented in speaking your praises. It would be just as good wrapping around my cock. I imagine he must be talented in all things. I want to see how far he can take a man in, for surely he can’t be that pure. None of us are, Father. With training, perhaps he could take it all.”

 

Hazel knows he should stop him there - not only is he positive Ukoku knows he’s the one listening, but his words are as good as blasphemy. To speak of taking a high ranking member of the church in such a fashion, one who has sworn himself to piety and celibacy? The idea itself is sign of the devil at work. But the words to correct him don’t seem to come.

 

“He’s a good, subservient man. A leash and collar would fit him nicely. I wonder if he could serve me as well as he serves you. I know they’re wrong, but I can’t help but think such thoughts. The devil has a strong hold on me.”

 

Swallowing hard, Hazel realizes Ukoku has paused, and he takes a moment to find his voice. The tremble is barely noticeable when he speaks. “The Lord has not abandoned you, child. He will make you whole and good again.”

 

“It doesn’t stop there, oh Lord. You know, as the Devil had me thinking to myself about how nice his lips were, he turned around, and those robes are not as loose as I thought. He is endowed by your grace, truly, and the curve of his ass is a work of your art.”

 

“Ahh, but the devil is crafty, you know. I have seen your beauty and he put more impure thoughts into my head. Of how wonderful it would be to grab it, to have it in my hands as I slam into him. How lovely and red would it turn. How rough could I be before he broke. Could I have him begging before me to let him finish, letting him find release whenever I please. The devil wants me to have him at my command.”

 

“Mercy….” Hazel tugs at his collar, the heat of the room almost unbearable as he shifts uncomfortably, pretending he can’t feel the stiffness between his legs.

“I wonder, how rough he could take it. It seems to me he’d have quite the pain tolerance, so I’d have to try extra hard to satisfy. Ah, he’d be a delightful challenge. I could go all night with him before wearing him out.”

 

The amusement in Ukoku’s voice doesn’t go unnoticed, and Hazel does his best to avoid looking through the grate where he knows Ukoku is watching him. The smirk is felt rather than seen, but he can still picture dark, half-lidded eyes clearly.

 

“We could start right here, in this very confessional booth. I’ll take it slow, because I know he doesn’t see much action. I’d be surprised if his hand saw much, with how pious he is. Or so he pretends to be. But I have a feeling here will be just fine.”

 

Hazel keeps quiet, trying not to give himself away. He hangs on every word the man says, ignoring the whispers in the mind that say this is wrong. It’s confessional, he needs to see this through.

 

“For the first round, he can feel in control. I’ll show him how it’s done, kneel before him, and take him in my mouth. I’m sure he tastes sweet, already hard and dripping. We could be caught at any time, but you know that.”

 

Hazel can’t quite stop the small noise that escapes him, shame flushing his cheeks with heat. He grips hard at the fabric of his robes, trying to steady his breathing, and hold back any further noise.

 

“Ah, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you. Can you imagine, someone coming into the confessional. Sitting in the next stall while my mouth is on you? While you’re receiving pleasure from another man? They confess their sins to you, never knowing the sin you’re committing as you absolve them.”

 

He can imagine it, the scene playing in his head as vividly as a memory, able to see the wicked smirk on Ukoku’s lips as he’d drag out the torture. Despite his best efforts, his breathing hitches, and he leans his head back against the wall of the booth. 

 

“You’ll have to be quiet, you can’t make a sound or they’ll know. You’ll have to bite back every moan that threatens to escape, knowing there’s someone just a few feet away. I wonder if they’d be able to smell you. To smell your arousal. Do they know? Would they know when I keep you just on the edge, not sure when you’ll release but it will be any minute now, and they’re still there?”

 

He doesn’t know if they can hear it, if they can smell it, but he can feel it, hot and painful and straining down below. Each brush of fabric as he shifts is almost painful against sensitive skin, and yet not enough. He bites back another noise that threatens to slip out and give him away.

 

“Keeping back all that noise is hard on you though, isn’t it? Can you really control it when I send you over the edge? I’ll keep you just out of reach until they go, and then when you finally finish, I’ll take it all. Every last drop, until you’re sucked entirely dry. You’ll never forget when you come back here, the memory of your sins etched into the walls as you listen to the congregation. They trust you, but they don’t know you’re as dirty as they are.”

 

It takes every ounce of effort in him to control his breathing, to keep the images in his head at bay, but it does little. Lust and desire flow through him, heating his body and reminding him of his own shameful humanity. He is imperfect, he is human, and he is painfully hard. How easy would it be, he wonders, to accept Ukoku’s offer? But he shakes the thought off. From the other side of the booth, Ukoku chuckles in quiet amusement, as if he knows.

 

“Oh, don’t worry, we’re not done there. You’ll get to rest, of course, but you know now you owe a debt. And you’re not a man who likes debts. I’ll let you regain your strength. Spend the rest of the day among the patrons of the church and your priestly colleagues. They won’t know anything, but you do. You still feel traces of me on your skin, you know what you’ve done in the booth. The shameful,  _ sinful _ actions you’ve taken part in.”

 

There’s a pause, as Ukoku lets his words sink in. He feels the weight of them as if they were truth, the guilt settling in for even entertaining such ideas. And yet, they only serve to fuel the flames of lust in his heart. He wants them. He wants to feel it. That is his punishment, that is his penance, the price to pay for his humanity, and it calls to him.

 

“But as soon as everyone else is gone, when you think it’s just you, I’ll be back. You still owe me, little dove. And I’ll take you where I want, because no one is here. I have been patient all day, and I know you want to know what’s next. Why should we wait to get to your quarters, hm? There are so many places in the main hall. The pews, or the organ. Perhaps the pulpit? Ah, I think the altar would do just fine. In plain view of the church, and the Lord on the cross.”

 

A breathy noise slips before he can stop it. He wants to think it might be a protest - that’s too much! - but he knows it isn’t. After all, no one’s there. No one has to know. No one can see inside his mind and see his shameful thoughts, his shameful desires.

 

“I’ll strip you down and bend you over it, so that your ass is up in the air, exposed to me and where the congregation would be. There is no one there, but can’t you imagine what they would say? The great Priest, bent before them. What would they say as I prepare you? As I take you.”

 

He can hear the whispers, picturing the congregation watching as Ukoku takes him, twists him, the devil in him bared for the world and the congregation to see. Blasphemy, and the greatest of the cardinal sins. They would know, they would see all of it and whisper and he moans, low and quiet in the back of his throat.

 

“I know you’ve never taken a man there before, though from the sounds of things, you want to. Can you feel every inch of me? Can you feel the heat and the burn as I push in to the hilt? Ahhh, you’re tight, but you’ll loosen up with a few thrusts.”

 

He shifts, regaining just enough composure to bite down the next noise. Sweat beads at his temples, the heat under his collar and pooling in his gut almost unbearable. Finding a comfortable spot is impossible, and the hardness between his legs brushes against the fabric with every move, torturously light but just enough to send sparks through him.

 

“No one’s here now, so you can make as much noise as you want. You’ll moan as I take you, claim you, mark you. When I pull your hair, would you like that? Can you feel your skin growing hot and red as I slap you? You’re so filthy, I have to make sure everyone knows. All that white will be stained with red.”

 

“Oh…” the word comes in a breathy gasp, a muttered prayer to whomever will listen. He’s not sure it’s the Lord anymore, because he pictures dark hair and eyes, mind and soul filled with thoughts of him, the heat of him, wanting to feel him where he lusts and desires most. He groans and shifts, his hips now moving of their own accord, seeking what they won’t find in the empty air of the booth.

 

“Ah, no one’s here, but you know we’re not alone. Lift your head and you’ll see him before you. The Lord himself, his very son, whose teachings we follow, is there. He’s watching us from the cross. He’s watching  _ you _ . Can you feel his eyes? Can you feel his judgement as you writhe and moan? Can you feel him watching as I find just the right spot to make you cry out and beg for more? He sees us both. He sees you letting yourself be defiled. And you like it. You can’t hide from the truth any longer.”

 

Ukoku’s words, the heat of his own shame, the very thought of the Lord watching him, knowing he is watching now, is too much. A strangled noise escapes as his back arches, heat coursing through him as he throbs. His hand finally moves to his groin, pressing hard and offering just enough friction to send him over the edge, wet heat spurting into his clothes. His entire body convulses in pleasure, breath coming in heavy pants. Ukoku waits a few moments until he continues on, his voice filtering through Hazel’s fuzzy consciousness.

 

“Be sure to give him a show. When I finally drive you to the edge again, be sure to cry out, so he knows just how much you enjoyed it. When I pull out and spend my essence on your back, you’ll be floating too high to protest, and you’ll know that I have marked you again, and I have done it in the eyes of the Lord. He has watched you come undone before me.”

 

Silence falls between them as Hazel tries to regain his breathing. His heart pounding in his chest, he vaguely remembers they’re still in confessional, and Ukoku is waiting on  _ him _ to continue. Finally, he regains his composure enough to speak, ignoring the residual breathiness to his own voice, and the slight stutter to his words.

 

“The Lord has heard you, my child. He has taken your sins. You are absolved.”

 

He can hear the smile through the screen, the barest of chuckles coming from Ukoku, as if he knows that Hazel has vastly diverged from the usual script.

 

“Thank you, oh Father. I shall do my best to live by your Grace.”

 

He hears the rustling of cloth, and the soft creak of the wooden door as Ukoku stands, almost out the door before he pauses, gaze settling on Hazel through the grate and boring into his soul.

 

“Oh. And I’ll see you around, Bishop Hazel Grouse.”

 

Ukoku leaves him in silence and shame, a lingering hope of desire fluttering in his chest.


End file.
